Andrew Austin is to his mama A N D Y (each letter said separately) I’ve called him that and Andy since birth. When he started school he became Andrew. He’ll answer to either.

Andrew is our true middle child. Ryan is our first, Sarah is our first daughter, Emily is the baby and Andrew is our middle. As a middle myself I know the pluses and minuses of this placement. 

We were living in Algona when we discovered we were pregnant again and in true Waite fashion we got transferred during the pregnancy and moved to Sioux City in early 1999. 

For me, the births of our children became more stressful the more we had. Ryan popped out four and half hours after getting to the hospital. Sarah took longer and an unwelcomed visitor came with my dad during her birth. Andrew was the scariest to date. 

My blood type required me to get a shot during my pregnancies to make my blood compatible to the infants blood. Something about RH negative and a Rhogam shot. I’ve since been told the dose I received while pregnant was not effective which spelled unexpected complications.

It was early on a Sunday morning in March when I felt the first pains of labor strain across my abdomen. We were living in a very small three bedroom rental house with our three  year old son Ryan and two year old daughter Sarah plus our white boxer Nika. Thankfully on Sundays Fareway is closed and Dave was asleep next to me. It had taken us awhile to ALL get moved over to Sioux City I do remember that part. Being as pregnant as I was and solely responsible for packing up the house and caring for the kids. Fareway never did give much notice when transferring. Thankfully Dave had made friends with his coworkers and had a plan for when we’d need to go to the hospital without Ryan and Sarah. I wasn’t quite as panicked as I was with the first birth and since the contractions weren’t very regular I enjoyed the peacefulness that I knew would become hectic all too soon. As I lay there on my back I placed my hand on my swollen belly feeling the roundness of it and started imagining what the day had in store. Reminding myself that soon I’d be holding this little one in my arms. My bladder didn’t allow me much more time for laziness and just as I started to prop myself to a sitting position another pain ripped through me much stronger and longer. I must have made some sort of garbled moan that woke Dave up. I felt his touch on my lower back and heard him ask if I was okay. I waited until the pain subsided and took a deep breath hoping to relax my body. I turned towards him and told him what he already had guessed. He helped me from the bed and started to get dressed himself. I padded to the bathroom and took care of business, brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair but didn’t look at my reflection. My focus was already on the coming hours. When I walked out of the bathroom I heard Dave in the kitchen on the phone. He was talking to a coworker who had offered her assistance when the time came. I went back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. That’s where Dave found me when he hung up and came to see how I was doing. Together we made the bed and he helped me into the only clean pair of maternity pants I had left in the closet, they were navy blue knit and the elastic was barely holding on. I pulled on an over sized maroon shirt and had Dave put socks on my feet. Another pain halted our slow progress and by the time the doorbell rang we’d made it to the tiny living room. Dave greeted his coworker and started showing her around, taking her to the kitchen then on to the bedrooms where thankfully Ryan and Sarah were still sleeping. The small “take to the hospital bag” was packed and sitting in “broken in” baby carseat. When they returned to the living room I was holding my breath, doubled over as another contraction had it’s way. Dave quickly walked over and assisted me out of the green recliner and into a pair of slip on shoes. We thanked our helper and left for the hospital. 

This time was a much shorter drive than the last two times but to a completely different hospital and doctor. The sun was just lighting up this side of the earth as we pulled into a parking spot at St. Luke’s Hospital in downtown. With only one pain during our drive another one took hold of me when I stepped out of the car. Dave had grabbed the bag from the backseat but left the carseat and walked around to my side. We waited until the tightening released me and crossed the street. We walked through the automatic doors into the brightly lit reception area and up to a desk where we signed in. A wheelchair magically appeared with a nurse to assist and show us to our room. Up the elevator we swiftly went, stopping at the maternity floor where we got off. The room we were given was large and overlooked the road we had just crossed. Dave put the bag down on the chair also known as the father’s bed for the night. I was given a hospital gown and some privacy to change being told someone would be with me soon to check the progress. When the door closed and we were alone I looked at Dave and we shared that smile that two people who are in love do. There, in that look I felt safe and reassured. We were set to celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary later that year and through the moves and the family that we were creating we continued growing stronger together. 

My progress went on as planned right up to the point where I was told to push. The incubator had been brought into the room, two nurses and the doctor were there as well. With one leg in Dave’s well trained hand and the other in a nurses the doctor announced the crowning. The monitors were beeping in time with the contractions and instructions to push harder were told in elevated tones. My body, weary from excursion, somehow found a reserve amount of energy and with one last push, “It’s a boy” was announced (confirming my suspicions) Sweating, tired but exhilarated I fell back into the upright bed and released the tight hold I had on Dave’s arm. I watched as this bright red infant laid cradled in the doctors hands and saw the nurse give Dave a pair of surgical scissors and instructed him where to cut the umbilical cord. Baby boy Waite was brought up to my chest to cuddle while the doctor administered to the aftermath of birth. Dave stood back with one arm behind him and a contented look on his face. He brushed his knuckles across the babies face and looked at me. I now know that look was of amazement. As the woman giving birth we don’t get to see what it’s like for the bystander. For Dave it was scary, exciting, breathtaking, a little “gross” but beautiful all at the same time. 

After vitals were taken, the Apgar test logged and belts removed and machines switched off, the doctors and nurses left taking our boy with them for his first bath. 

I don’t know if it’s normal or not but for some reason after giving birth for me I’m energetic and ready to go. I wanted to refresh. Since everything had gone so smoothly Dave decided to run home and relieve his coworker and get something to eat. He promised to return soon. With my IV wrapped in a towel and probably against hospital regulations I got in the shower and let the water wash off the work of the morning. 

Feeling revived and ready to hold and bond with our newborn I put on a clean gown, slowly wheeled my IV over to the bed. I gingerly crawled between the clean white bedding and settled in. I turned on the tv to pass the time expecting a nurse to come in at any moment. The minutes ticked by. When thirty minutes had passed I pushed the assistance button and a nurse arrived. 

I will always remember the fear that followed her words. The feeling of being alone when I was told my boy needed a blood transfusion and is in the intensive care unit. It felt like everything stopped. The happy go lucky feeling that the birth had invigorated in me evaporated. I was ready to nurse him, to hold him and stare at him in wonder. To bless him with soft kisses and words of love. All of this was taken from me as he lay in an incubator attached to monitors in some other part of the hospital. I was told they would be back to get me soon so I could go see him but tears started to cloud my vision.

With my son in one room going through something I didn’t understand and his father with his siblings across town, I laid there and did what I knew would help with the worry. I prayed. 

Andrew spent four days in the NICU having required three blood transfusions after birth. I wasn’t able to hold him again until the following day and that was a very long 13 hours! He was to date our smallest baby with a shock of dark hair and many exclamations of how much he looked like his father. Thankfully I remained in the hospital where he was until we were both released. 

A•N•D•Y is a young man of 23 who loves like his mama. He is sensitive and a people pleaser. His heart is huge and he can talk to ANYONE, anywhere. His smile is infectious. He’s someone you want to be around. His loud booming voice, his shenanigans and personality have a magnetic like draw. He grew from this small 7 pound 9.5 oz, 19″long baby to be a leanest and tallest in the family. In his younger years his hair would lighten up to be a towhead in the summer. He has the logic of his father with common sense (most of the time) and a mind that can analyze and put things together fairly quickly. He has always been more of a hands on kind of person and once he figured that out the rest has fallen in place for him. He is currently an electrician in an apprenticeship and with the union. He is fun loving, has a heart for animals and a soft spot I worry gets taken advantage of. This boy of ours entered our lives with a challenge right out of the gate and he’s been facing every challenge thrown at him ever since. He’s a fighter with a lovers heart and we truly cannot imagine our lives without him.